


Day 31

by charmingwords23



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Emotional, F/M, Oliver in jail speculation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmingwords23/pseuds/charmingwords23
Summary: Oliver has been in prison for 31 days, and today is the day he's been waiting for. Today he gets his first letter from Felicity and will get an update on his family.





	Day 31

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me while speculating with a friend (@flipflops) about Oliver [possibly] ending up in jail at the end of season 6. Please excuse errors in how prisons are actually run - I only used my imagination and wrote this for fun. :)

It had been 31 days. 

31 days since his life - his family’s lives - had been changed forever. 

31 days since he had lost and Ricardo Diaz had won. 31 days since Diaz had taken over his city. 31 days since Diaz had imprisoned him for the rest of his life. 

31 days since Oliver had been free. Since he had eaten something other than cardboard. Since he had slept in a normal bed. Since he had showered without dozens of hateful eyes watching him. Since he watched television or looked at his phone. 

But that wasn’t the worst of it. 

It had been 31 days since he had seen his family. Since he had hugged William. Since he had held Felicity. Since he had seen them smile or heard them speak. He didn’t know where they were, what they were doing, or if they were happy. Had they grown? Had they adjusted to life without him? Were they safe?

God, they had to be safe. He and John had had their issues, but he  _ had  _ to believe that John would take care of them. Especially since it had been 31 days since he and Felicity found out they were adding another child to their family. 

Every time he closed his eyes he remembered. He remembered the shock on her face when the doctor told them - how her mouth had dropped open and her eyes had widened. He remembered how she had jerked her gaze to him, how her eyes had filled with tears, and how she had  _ smiled _ . 

He had been breathless. He still was. 

A baby. With Felicity. The greatest gift she could ever give him. One he could never deserve but would cherish every day for the rest of his life. Even if he stayed in this godforsaken Hell hole forever - even if he never got to hold their child, change a diaper, or rock him or her to sleep - he would love that baby with everything he had until he took his last breath. 

That Felicity - his beautiful, strong Felicity - had to care for their children alone while he was stuck in here made him feel as though tiny spikes were being pushed into his lungs. She didn’t deserve the life he had left her with. She deserved a husband who would be there. Who would protect her, and help her, and share responsibilities with her. Why she had chosen him, he would never fully understand. She would tell him she had chosen this and that she wouldn’t take a single thing back, but that didn’t mean it didn’t destroy him that she had to do this alone. His only consolation was the knowledge that if any woman on Earth could handle the horrible situation he had put her in, it was Felicity Smoak. 

31 days later and he didn’t know if the baby was ok. The doctor had assured them that everything looked normal - despite their anxiety over any trauma that could have happened when she had been in Diaz’s crosshairs. But it had been a month. Diaz had made sure that Oliver was inside a maximum security prison with no visitors or phone calls allowed. He was to receive one letter each month - a letter that he had been waiting for like life-sustaining rain in the desert. 

As long as the letter - which he had been told would be given to him today - let him know that his family was safe and well, he could keep doing this. He could survive anything as long as they were happy and out of harm’s way. 

Diaz could keep him in prison, send his goons to beat him weekly, and make sure Oliver’s cellmates were the worst of the worst. But as long as Felicity and their kids were ok, Oliver wouldn’t give a shit. He’d suffer through this for ten lifetimes if it meant his family got  _ one _ lifetime of happiness. 

“Queen!” a guard barked, ripping him from his thoughts. 

Oliver looked up from where he was seated on his bed, arms draped over his knees, and raised a defiant eyebrow at the guard. The man, Rogers, was on Diaz’s payroll (as was just about every guard in this place, Oliver had discovered). Rogers had made it his mission, on Diaz’s command no doubt, to torture Oliver as much as possible without killing him. Sometimes that meant looking the other way when other inmates jumped Oliver. Sometimes it meant giving Oliver a cellmate who should have been in the psych ward. Sometimes it meant not letting Oliver out of his cell at meal time. 

If Rogers thought Oliver would be intimidated by him, the guard didn’t know him very well. 

“Oh your feet, inmate,” Rogers demanded with a sneer from the other side of the iron bars. 

Oliver sighed and stood up to look at him. 

Rogers blinked slowly and his mouth twisted into a smug smile. “I know you know it’s mail day.” Oliver waited, making sure his face stayed carved from stone. The guard’s smirk grew. “I just wanted to let you know your letter got lost in the mail.” 

An explosion of ice erupted through his veins as he stared at the guard. His heart thumped painfully in his chest and his hands shook. He crunched them into fists in a desperate attempt to control himself. No. Not this. Not his letter. His jaw started to ache from how tightly it was clenched. Oliver refused to speak to this man and give him any sort of satisfaction even though something inside him was screaming at him to beg, grovel, or yell - anything to get that letter. 

He  _ needed _ it. 

“There’s always next month,” Rogers goaded with a smirk. “Anyway, yard time. Get your shoes on.” The guard hit his nightstick against the metal bars a few times to emphasize his order, then walked away chuckling. Oliver stared off into space after him - willing his hands to stop trembling and his legs to stop feeling numb. 

No letter from Felicity. No update on William. No report on the new baby. No information on where they were or if they were ok. 

He should have known. He should have known that Diaz would find a way to take the  _ one  _ goddamn thing he had been living and breathing for for the past 31 days. Oliver sucked in a breath and ran a shaky hand over his face. Anger as red as molten lava coursed through him and into his extremities. He let out a frustrated growl and slammed his hand against the wall so hard his bones were surprised they didn’t dent the cinder blocks. 

Still vibrating with rage, Oliver crammed his feet into his prison issue boots and and stalked over the the barred door. 

He was going to kill Rogers. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But Oliver was pretty sure that piece of shit lapdog for Diaz was going to end up dead sooner or later. And if Oliver got even a  _ hint _ that something had happened to his family - that they had even been  _ looked at  _ by Diaz or his men - Oliver was sure it would be ‘sooner.’ The fact that the man was still breathing right now was a testament to Oliver’s restraint. 

A loud buzz sounded throughout the cell block and the iron doors in front of each small room wheeled themselves open. Oliver stepped out into the common area and followed the crowd out toward the yard. He needed to lift weights - one of the few activities they were allowed to let off steam. He wanted to burn the fury from his muscles and he wanted a distraction from the hope that had just been ripped away from him and the throbbing hole it had left in its wake. 

The fresh air, which usually helped ground him when he got his one hour of yard time a day, did little to ease his tension. He stalked over to the weight benches where a few other inmates were gathered. He grabbed the highest amount of weight they were allowed and stacked them onto his barbell. In almost a frenzy, he laid down on the bench and started lifting the burdensome rod up and down against his chest. 

With each labored lift, the blazing in his muscles ate away at his pent up emotions. This was how it had to be. Each time he lowered the bar, he let go of something. His anger at Diaz, at Rogers, at himself, at his situation - he had to release it now or he would end up doing something stupid. Each drop of sweat gathering around his forehead and chest was a beaded hope, leaving his body and splattering into oblivion against the concrete. Hopes of hearing from his wife, of reading her words, of finding out anything at all about his children and their well being. He couldn’t afford to hold onto those in here either. Today had proven that. 

If he wanted them safe, he had to do what he could to stay alive in here and not give Diaz any other reason to want to torture him further. He had to have faith that Dig had gotten his family out of the city and to somewhere safe. He had to believe they were happy and cared for, and that one day he would get out of here and get to see them. But until then, this was his penance. This was the price he was paying for his past sins and the ante he would gladly give for his family to live out of harm’s way. 

He would be of no use to Felicity and their kids if he let Diaz and this place break him. He  _ would _ get out of this place eventually and he was resolved to return to her - to them - in one piece. He owed her that. 

Just as his muscles started to scream at the exertion and he began to feel his boiling blood starting to reduce to a simmer, someone stepped up beside him. 

“Hey Queen. It’s mail day today. Get anything from that hot little wife of yours?” 

And just like that, the fire blazed in him again. He lodged the barbell above him and sat up, determined to try to ignore the inmate next to him. Oliver was familiar with the man. Oliver had been responsible for the guy’s arrest years ago. The man, Rudy Baime, had been a con artist and a murderer, and the Hood - back when that was still his nickname - had tracked him down and turned him over to the authorities. Since entering the prison, Oliver had been subject to attacks by a good chunk of the inmates here whom he was personally responsible for helping put away. Baime was just another on a long list who liked to taunt and harass him, and Oliver usually tried not to give him any reaction. 

Oliver wiped his face with the small towel chained to the work bench. 

“Let me guess. She told you she’s moving on from your sorry ass?” Baime jeered. Oliver could feel the inmate’s predatory eyes on him. Clenching his teeth, he stood up and walked toward the water fountain at the edge of the yard. “I wouldn’t blame her, you know,” Baime continued with a guffaw. “Women like her don’t wait around for ex-cons. Not that you’ll ever get out and get the ‘ex’ part.” 

Oliver’s fists clenched as he bent to take a drink of water. The cool liquid did little to douse the fire beneath his skin. Today was  _ not  _ the day to be taunting him. His control was already hanging by only a thread, and Oliver was dangerously close to snapping. 

“Did I ever tell you I saw a picture of your misses once?” Baime continued. “She was featured in some fancy tech magazine they had in the library a few months ago.” 

Oliver stilled, his back still to the man, and his mind raced. Felicity’s picture...in a magazine somewhere  _ here? _ For fuck’s sake, he needed to find that  _ now _ and destroy it before - 

“I tore that page out and kept it under my pillow. Your woman has a pretty nice ass. I looked at that picture every time I needed to -”

Oliver spun around and grabbed the other man’s shirt just under the neck. “Where is it?” he growled, his pulse thumping in his own ears. 

The other man smirked. “She had pretty red lips in the picture too. I imagined those lips around my -”

Oliver tightened his grip and brought the man, who coughed as the air was sucked out of his windpipe, closer to his face. “Where the fuck is the picture?” he snarled, rage eking from his pores. 

Baime smirked. “I get out in a couple months, you know. Maybe I’ll pay her a visit.” Oliver’s breathing sped up and the familiar rush of adrenaline flooded through his ears. “I like boys too. You have one of those, don’t you? It would be my lucky day. Two for the price of one.” 

A sickening crack reverberated around the yard and the man in front of him yelled out in pain. Without even registering, Oliver had grabbed the inmate’s arm and twisted it until the bone popped with the pressure. With anger and fear and violence clouding his vision, Oliver plunged his fist into the man’s twisted face, sending him tumbling backward. 

But Oliver wasn’t done. 

He pounced on the other inmate, all his pent up rage pouring out through his fists - oblivious to the jeers and yells of the other inmates as they gathered around to watch. Oliver struck Baime over and over, each release an assault on the images the man had planted in his mind: inmates using Felicity’s picture in their sick fantasies, tracking her down outside of here while he was still stuck behind bars, threatening his children. 

And suddenly his fears of the future morphed into horrors of his past. He kept hitting and the memories kept coming. Felicity screaming for him as he was pulled away from her by the police. William crying out his name as he was shoved into the police car. Placing his hand over Felicity’s flat stomach and sharing an awed look with her over what they had created. Guards telling him he would get no visitors, phone calls, or letters. 

It was too much. He couldn’t think straight or see straight. All he knew was the crunching sound of his fist hitting its target and the red stains on his knuckles. 

And then another commotion - sirens wailing, shots firing, and inmates falling to the ground with their hands on their heads. He was being pulled off Baime, who was barely conscious, and dragged inside. God knew where. He didn’t even care anyway. 

His consciousness was clouded by the after effects of the adrenaline and the rage. His limbs felt leaden and his ears felt like they were submerged and fuzzy. Minutes later, he was tossed in a cell that wasn’t his own. This one had padded white walls, and the door was completely covered save for a small window to shove a tray of food through. There was a security camera mounted to the ceiling in the corner, and it appeared to be malfunctioning because the small red light on it kept flashing off and on a few times a second. 

This was solitary confinement. 

It had only taken him 31 days to end up in solitary. He wondered if  _ this _ would finally break him. 

He wondered if he was already broken. 

He sunk down against the wall of the cell until he was sitting on the ground, his arms resting in front of him against his knees. 

He had waited 31 days for today. He had waited all this time to get word of his family. He just needed to know that they were ok. He needed to hear Felicity ramble on aimlessly about her newest project. He needed to watch William pack up his Flash backpack for school. He needed to put his hand on Felicity’s stomach again to feel that their child was growing and that it hadn’t all been a dream. He needed them. 

And he wouldn’t get it. The dark cloud of desolation settled into his soul as the reality struck him. 

He wouldn’t survive this without her. He needed something. Anything. 

The flap on the door opened with a squeak and Oliver’s head jerked up. 

“Queen,” a voice whispered. Oliver didn’t answer. “Not all of us are on Diaz’s payroll. Thank you for what you’ve done for this city.” 

Bewildered, Oliver scurried forward to try to figure out who was on the other side of the door. Before he could look through the tiny window, something was shoved through it and the door was slammed shut. Oliver’s breath stopped as he watched an envelope glide through the air and float to the floor in front of him. 

His heart started thumping and he sucked in a breath. 

He reached for the envelope, afraid it might disappear with any sudden movements. He turned it over and saw a his name and inmate identification information printed across the front. He tore it open and pulled out the folded paper inside. As he turned the folds to reveal the words inside. 

He stopped breathing altogether when he read the first word: “Oliver” written in his wife’s messy scrawl. His eyes roamed hungrily down the page, soaking up her words like a dying man gasping for oxygen. 

 

> _ Oliver,  _
> 
> _ There is so much I want to say, but I’ve been warned that the letter will be destroyed if it is longer than a page. So I’ll start with what you want to know first. We’re ok. We’re safe. We’re somewhere he can’t get to us. _
> 
>  

Oliver paused his reading, overcome, and leaned his head forward so that it rested on his forearms. He took a few shaky breaths, the relief he felt just from those few words was a soothing balm to his aching soul. A month’s worth of fears and anxieties evaporated from his shoulders. They were ok. They were safe. He leaned his head back against the wall and rubbed a hand over his face, then refocused on the letter. 

 

> _ William is doing fine. He’s been playing baseball in the yard with the Scarecrow a lot. He says he wants to be able to hit a homerun by the time you come home.  _
> 
>  

Oliver paused, his brows furrowing. Felicity was smart enough to know that her letter would be read. Who was “Scarecrow”? He racked his brain, something nagging in the back of it. He had heard that reference. Where had he heard that reference? 

Roy. Felicity used to call Roy “Scarecrow” from time to time as a joke. They were with Thea and Roy. 

Somehow, all the remaining anxiety left in his body disappeared. His sister and Roy would take care of them. 

He turned his attention back to the letter. 

 

> _ I have been working on my startup. I’m keeping everything current and trying to come up with some new ideas. Believe it or not, Curtis is even easier to work with when we’re working remotely and I can only hear him over a headset (that can be muted).  _
> 
>  

Oliver’s lips twisted into a ghost of a smile for the first time since entering this iron pen. 

 

> _ The doctors say all is well. Our family is healthy and growing on schedule. I’m sure you wish you could ask these things yourself. All I can give you is a 1 for yes and 2 for no.  _
> 
>  

Oliver could tell she was talking about the baby now but trying not to make it obvious. Apparently she and the rest of them had reason to believe Diaz didn’t know about her pregnancy, and with any luck, he never would. He wasn’t sure exactly what message she was trying to send with that last line, but he knew he’d figure it out after reading the letter a few more times - something he planned to do for the rest of the night. And probably every night until he could get another letter. 

 

> _ Dig and I are looking into things. We’ll find a way to fight this. You won’t be in there forever. We’ll get you out in time to help pick out the colors for the spare bedroom. I know you, Oliver, and I know you are blaming yourself for missing this time with your family. We don’t blame you. We love you, we miss you, and we are proud of you. Every single day. We can’t wait to see you. Please stay safe.  _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Felicity _

 

Oliver’s throat felt thick and hoarse. His eyes stung. He reached up and stuck the balls of his fists into them to try to keep the moisture from overflowing.

God, he missed her. This letter, knowing she was safe and that their children were ok, was both the blessing he had needed and the curse that made him long for them even more.  _ He  _ should be the one playing baseball with William.  _ He _ should be with Felicity at the appointments getting updates on their baby’s health.  _ He  _ should be the one keeping them safe and making sure Diaz couldn’t get anywhere near him. 

But instead he was stuck here - missing it all. 

He leaned his head back until it hit against the cool, hard wall and continued to rub his hands across his face in an attempt to relieve the tightness around his eyes and jaw. When he blinked his eyes open, he looked up to try to keep the remaining moisture from becoming too much to contain behind his eyelids. 

Then he noticed something. 

The faulty security camera in the corner no longer had a flashing red light on it. In fact, the power light had gone out completely. Oliver stared at it, wondering if he should be alarmed but also not able to dedicate much thought to it because his mind was still preoccupied by the letter clutched in his hand. 

Then the light flickered on and off. Once. 

Oliver continued to watch. 

It flickered off and on again. 

Oliver narrowed his eyes. 

Then the light started blinking rapidly again just like it had been when he walked in. Then it abruptly cut off. 

_ What the fuck _ ? 

What was going on with the stupid thing that it - 

The air went out of his lungs and his eyes snapped straight to the camera. Was it possible? “Felicity?” he rasped uncertainly, wondering if he really had gone mad. 

The light flickered once. 

What did that mean? Was it her? Was she watching him on the camera? Was she with him right now? How was he supposed to know if a flickering power light was just a malfunction or if his genius wife had hacked the camera? 

Wait. 

He blinked a few times and refocused on the letter in his hand.  _ All I can give you is a 1 for yes and 2 for no _ . He jerked his head back up to the camera. “Felicity, is it you?” he asked again, so quietly that he barely even heard himself. 

The camera blinked once. 

31 days worth of pain, and anger, and tension bled out of him in one strangled cry as he brought his fist to his mouth. She wasn’t here, but she was  _ here _ . 

“How are you? How are the kids? What about Roy? And Thea?” he rushed, eyes glued to the camera. 

The camera was silent for a moment, then it flashed twice.  _ No.  _

Oliver pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. “Right,” he mumbled to himself. “Yes or no questions. Ok. Are you ok?” 

_ Yes _ . 

“Are the kids ok?”

_ Yes _ . 

“You’re all safe?”

_ Yes. _

“Thank God,” he sighed. “It’s been killing me, Felicity. Not knowing.” 

One flash.  _ Yes _ . She knew. 

He scratched the stubble of his jaw that was getting much longer than he usually let it grow. “How often do you hack their cameras?” He shook his head. Not a yes or no questions. “Do you watch often?” 

There was a pause, then a single flash.  _ Yes _ . Oliver figured as much. He could imagine her curled up on the couch with her tablet, watching him on the screen, helpless to do anything but unable to look away. He should have known she was watching him all this time. He really should have known. Hacking the prison security cameras just to keep an eye on him and reassure herself he was ok was a very Felicity-like thing to do. 

His gut twisted when he realized all the things she had seen if she was watching him all the time in the last month. The times he’d been beaten and harassed. The times he’d been denied food. The times, like today, he’d let his own anger get the best of him. “You shouldn’t watch anymore, Felicity. You shouldn’t have to see -”

Two quick flashes cut off his words.  _ No _ . 

He should have expected that too. He sighed. “I guess you saw what happened today?”

_ Yes _ . 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should be better at controlling myself, but when he was talking about you and William, I just lost it. I’ve been trying not let them get to me. I’m going to do better.”

_ No _ . 

No? He tilted his head, and he could practically hear Felicity’s irritation through the silence of only being able to communicate through yes and no. “No, you don’t want me to do better?” he questioned. 

_ No _ . 

He felt something light pull at his chest and it lifted the corners of his lips. “You want me to beat the shit out of everyone who gets on my nerves?” 

_ Yes _ . Then  _ no _ . Oliver huffed out a ghost of a laugh. 

“I miss you, you know,” he whispered.

_ Yes _ . A beat.  _ Yes _ . Oliver understood. She missed him too. 

Oliver sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. “When I get out of here, we’re all going straight to Aruba. We’re going to swim, and relax on the beach, and be far away from here.” 

_ Yes _ . 

“Maybe we should move there,” he mused quietly. “William could play baseball on the beach. The new one could grow up with a perfect tan all the time. I could open a shop by the beach and sell arrowheads made of seashells. It would be ironic, right?” 

He imagined the hypnotizing ringing of her laughter in the pause before the light flickered once.  _ Yes _ . He let his mouth twist into a small smile again. 

“Someday,” he promised. “Someday I’ll come back to you.”  _ Yes _ . “I’m sorry I’m not there.”  _ Yes _ . She knows. “I love you.” 

_ Yes _ . And then a new blink - three flashes in a row. Not a yes or a no. “I love you, too?” he wondered.

_ Yes _ . 

Oliver felt his throat burning again as he nodded. 

There was a pounding on the door that jerked his eyes away from the camera from the first time. “Queen!” an angry, unfamiliar voice demanded. “Stop talking to yourself in there or I’m going to send your ass to the fucking psych ward!” 

Oliver sighed, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Can I talk to you again soon?” 

_ Yes _ . 

“Tomorrow?”

_ Yes _ . 

“I’ll watch for the flashing lights to know when you’re around,” he whisper-teased. He could imagine her brilliant smile and the way she would straighten her glasses on her nose. 

Communicating with Felicity like this - no matter how simple it was - made him wonder how he ever made it 31 days without it. How he could ever go a day in here after this  _ without _ hearing from her, without her telling him she and their family were ok, he wasn’t sure. He was an addict and she was his fix. He needed her like water. Like air. Like the blood through his veins. He had been drifting through the days in a fog, but a few blinking lights from her and he felt awake again. He felt like she’d given him the energy he needed to fight. To make sure he returned to them whole. To make sure he didn’t let this place take a piece of him the way the island had. 

He  _ would  _ get out. He  _ would  _ see them again and hold them in his arms. 

And he  _ would _ make sure that when he did, he was still someone worth waiting for.  

  
  
  



End file.
